


The Lives We Lead - Bioware Edition

by GarnetSeren



Series: The Lives We Lead [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Women, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Polyamory, Women Being Awesome, Women in the Military, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: This is a collection of Dragon Age, Mass Effect and ME: Andromeda one-shots, the summary for each 'chapter' can be found at the start of each page.1. Entrances (DA:I) - F!Lavellan & Dorian2. A Subtle Shift (ME:A) - Sara/Reyes3. Bad Omens (ME2) - Chellick & Shepard
Relationships: Female Lavellan & Dorian Pavus, Female Ryder | Sara/Reyes Vidal, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Thane Krios/Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: The Lives We Lead [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703179
Kudos: 12





	1. Entrances (Dorian & F!Lavellan)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyVelvetCPeterson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVelvetCPeterson/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Empress Celene, and in turn all of Orlais, has been threatened. Her advisor's insist the Inquisition must intervene, and Lavellan agrees... albeit a little reluctantly. However, if Lavellan has learnt anything from her best friend Dorian in the time they've known each other, is that when in Orlais, remember, ALWAYS make an entrance.

Light refracted and reflected from a million faceted crystals. Gilded woodwork shone like the embers of a fire, and the two toned marble floor was polished like the surface of a wet, river pebble. Begrudgingly, Ellana had to admit it was an exquisitely appointed room, and could relucatantly see how the shems and city elves would be impressed. However, she found her nose wrinkling in disdain at the sight, as she tried not to fidget in her corseted dress. That was another thing she was regretting about this whole farce... the clothing. How she longed for the beauty of the forest and the comfort of her familiar mage robes; because even the formal military attire that Josephine had suggested, would have been welcome compared to this ridiculous gown.

Unfortunately, both Leliana and _Lady_ Vivienne had argued against the suits, and won. Though thankfully, the spy master had appropriated Ellana a sleek, red dress with a concealed slit up the side. Ideal if she needed to run anywhere tonight, and certainly a lot more practical than the poofy, froufrou numbers the other women seemed to be wearing. And if Solas' eyes had lit up when he had seen her all dressed up, well, that was just mere coincidence. Then again, she supposed none of that matter right then, as she nervously twiddled a curled lock of her violet-grey hair, and looked out over the sea of people once again.

"What exactly am I supposed to do anyway?" Ellana muttered, barely under her breath.

"My dear, allow me to demonstrate," Dorian smiled, enigmatically.

Winking at her, he donned a bejewelled half-face mask with a flamboyant air, and unable to dampen down her curiosity, Ellana leant on the balustrade at the top of the staircase, glad that her own ornate mask currently hid her identity. She watched intently, as her best friend languidly strutted to the head of the stairs. The light from the chandeliers caught the subtle sheen of his expensive black velvet, tight fitting suit; that was tailored in a way that made his rear look magnificent... and really, Ellana should know. She _had_ spent a full fifteen minutes checking it from every angle, before he would take her word on it.

"Introducing Lord Dorian Pavus," the court's clerk announced. "Member of the Circle of Virantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel."

With a flourish, Dorian flipped one side of his silk scarf over the opposite shoulder. The apricot colour contrasted beautifully with the black velvet, and complimented the rose gold and amber jewelled mask. Positively oozing confidence, he sauntered down the marble staircase; his posture perfect and head held high. To Ellana's slight surprise, he stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning himself so he was looking back up at her with a cryptic smile on his lips.

"Also Introducing, the Iron Bull," the clerk continued. "Leader of the famed mercenary company: Bull's Chargers... as the name might imply."

Snorting in amusement, Bull pushed himself away from the pillar he had been leaning against, before stating: "Show time, Boss!"  
  
He grinned at Ellana, before swaggering down the staircase. Though as fetching as the Qunari looked in his red military jacket... because the attire Josephine had ordered was the _only_ formal thing Bull possessed... his size and bulk made it look like he was marching into battle, rather than walking into a ball. Not that this evening was any less deadly than any of their previous fights, Ellana supposed, however this one had concealed weapons disguised as welcoming smiles.

"And now presenting, Lady Inquisitor Lavellan."

Taking a steadying breath, she smoothed out the silken fabric of her gown, before taking her first measured step. And it was only when she had made it down the first flight of stairs, and curtsied to the Empress, that Ellana realised Bull was mirroring Dorian's stance on the opposite side of the staircase. She couldn't help wondering what the two were up to, even as she continued to gracefully descend the remaining stairs.

Smiling proudly, Dorian bowed gallantly to her, as did Bull. In perfect synchronicity, the two men smartly turned back towards the dance floor, and offered her an arm each. Ellana's raised eyebrow was mercifully hidden by her mask, though her smirk was most definitely not. Since it seemed having two handsome men on her arm was giving the so-called _noble_ shems something to talk about... if the scandalised whispering and frantic fan waving were anything to go by. And somewhere in the crowd, Ellana knew Solas was watching; so she put a little more sway in her step as she sashayed across the floor.

"Now, my dear," Dorian began, his voice hushed and serious, as they moved towards the Empress. "If you take nothing else away from tonight, remember... _always_ make an entrance."


	2. A Subtle Shift (Sara/Reyes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes Vidal could easily admit that Sara Ryder was an interesting woman. Witty, attractive, driven, kind. She was indomitable and honestly, a force to be reckoned with. She was certainly a good contact to have on friendly terms. But in the aftermath of the Outcasts' special brand of justice, Reyes realises that the distance between acquantence and friend isn't that far, then wonders if perhaps something more isn't that out of reach either.

Breathing through the pain, Reyes winced as he tried to push himself up from the blood strained floor. He coughed, the copper taste of blood making him want to gag and the ringing in his ears making him dizzy. Oh, it wasn't the first time the Outcasts had come knocking at his door... so to speak... but supposedly late paid protection fees had certainly been a flimsier excuse than usual for the beating he'd received. Granted, he normally managed to talk himself out of similar situations, or better yet, have enough intel. to not get into them in the first place. But obviously luck just hadn't been on his side today. And talking of bad luck, the door to his private room in Tartarus just happened to swoosh open at the exact moment Reyes failed to haul himself up right. And of course, he couldn't be lucky enough for it just to be Kian or even Keema waltzing into his room. No, it just had to be the illustrious Pathfinder, didn't it.

Okay, so having Ryder find him probably wasn't the worst thing that could happen... Sloane's thugs could have come back for another round for example... but Reyes still grimaced when the distractingly pretty woman checked her step; her ridiculously captivating eyes widening as she took in the sorry sight he must be. And considering how her complexion visibly paled, Reyes guessed he might look just as bad as he felt. Which was bloody awful, if he was honest with himself. His right eyes was swollen shut, his lip split, his nose probably broken. He could feel blood trickling down the left side of his face from a cut just above his temple, and that wasn't even taking into account how much his ribs, fingers and the rest of his body _hurt._

Still, that didn't stop him giving Ryder his customary smirk in greeting as she silently knelt beside him; barely side stepping a small pool of his blood... that Reyes really didn't want to dwell on. Which was just as well, since he was far too preoccupied with how gently Ryder cupped his face in her glove free hands, leading him to belatedly realise she wasn't wearing her distinctive armour for once. It made him wonder if perhaps, just maybe, she'd been in the slums to see him rather than passing through on the way to the Badlands.

“Ryder, good to see you,” he greeted, aiming but falling short of his usually cheery tone. “What brings you to Kadara?”

“Popcorn and beer,” she replied, distractedly. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Sloane...”

“Fucking bitch!” she muttered, angrily.

“And what has the almighty one done to piss you off this time?” he asked, trying not to hiss in pain as her hands began to carefully check his neck for injuries.

“You're fucking kidding me, right?” Ryder huffed, raising an eyebrow.

Reyes blinked at her for a moment, surprised. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was angry about what happened to him. Though the thought was quickly replaced by a grimace and a cut off yelp, when her slow exploration barely touched a definitely broken rib. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing, even as he heard the telltale bleeping of fingers flying over an omni-tool, before an unexpected wave of relief washed over him; meaning Ryder had just given him a dose... or several... of her own precious medi-gel. Cracking his eyes open, Reyes swallowed thickly as he saw her unwind the scarf from around her neck, then started to ever so gently wipe the blood from his bruised face.

“I've asked Drack to escort Lexi down here, she'll do a better job of patching you up than I can,” she stated, quietly.

“Careful... I'll start thinking you like me,” he teased, trying to ignore the warm feeling that was trying to bloom in his battered chest.

Honestly, Reyes was expecting some witty retort to come out of her far-too-kissable looking mouth, but to his utter amazement, Ryder just sighed almost sadly before she leant forward to press a light and totally unexpected kiss to his forehead. He sucked in a surprised breath, immediately hissing in pain which prompted another coughing fit. His lungs burned, his ribs throbbed and despite his best efforts, tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. Silently, Reyes cursed himself. He hated being so weak, especially in front of someone as seemingly dauntless as the Pathfinder. But to his continued amazement, instead of any snide remark, Ryder just began to soothingly rub his back in slow, gentle strokes.

“Want to know a secret?” she asked, smiling. “For a rotten scoundrel, you're a good man, Reyes. I'm actually rather fond of you.”

He huffed a small laugh. “A dangerous secret, Ryder. But it's safe with me, I promise...”

“Talking of secrets, are you sure you don't know how to contact the Charlatan?”

Reyes hissed through his teeth as he shifted to his knees, hoping Ryder would think it was from his aborted attempted to stand rather than her question. Perhaps she did, because of instead of enquiring further, she gently wrapped her arms around his waist before carefully helping him to stand. Embarrassingly, he swayed on his feet as his head pounding and vision swam, but once again instead of any snide remark, Ryder was unwaveringly attentive as she helped him over to the couch.

“Why? Attracted to their mystery?” Reyes teased, though his voice was more strained than he'd have liked.

Her lips pressed into an angry line, even as she carefully took hold of one of his bruised hands. “Because if I didn't already want Sloane dead, I certainly would now...”

He almost gaped at her in shock. From what he'd seen of Ryder so far, she went out of her way to exhaust all means of diplomacy before she resorted to violence. To hear that she felt so strongly about him, or at least what had happened to him... Reyes cautiously shook his head, wanting to clear his thoughts but not aggravate the raging headache. It would be far too easy to tell Ryder... _everything_. And he couldn't risk that, not yet. It would put her in danger. It would change whatever _this_ was, that was obviously growing between them. However, that didn't stop Reyes from tentatively lacing his unbroken fingers with hers, nor did it stop him offering Ryder a small but genuine smile.

“Rumour has it the Collective have a swanky hideout in one of the caves in Draullir,” he told her, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “If the Charlatan would want anyone as an ally, I'm sure it would be you.”


	3. Bad Omens (Chellick & Shepard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he'd first heard rumours that someone calling themselves Shepard was back on the Citadel, Chellick had felt compelled to look into; he may not have liked the human all that much, but he respected what she'd accomplished during her short time as a Spectre. He'd even gone to her memorial service, so hearing someone was going about impersonating her... well, it just sat wrong somehow. So unable to help it, he put feelers out and found she'd been sighted hanging around Chora's Den whenever she was on the station. Which was as likely a place as any to start, when the guard on Zakera docks notified him that 'Shepard' was once again on the Citadel. However, despite being a C-Sec veteran, Chellick wasn't actually prepared for what he found.

When he'd first heard rumours that someone calling themselves Shepard was back on the Citadel, Chellick had felt compelled to look into; he may not have liked the human all that much, but he respected what she'd accomplished during her short time as a Spectre. He'd even gone to her memorial service, so hearing someone was going about impersonating her... well, it just sat wrong somehow, and not just because he'd been friends with Vakarian once upon a time, and he knew how badly the human's death had affected him. However, after speaking to Captain Bailey... who was rather adamant it had been the real Commander Shepard who he'd allowed onto the station... then discretely had a word with Ambassador Anderson, who also assured him that _Spectre_ Shepard had returned to duty, Chellick was slightly pacified but no less curious. So unable to help it, he put feelers out, and found she'd been sighted hanging around Chora's Den whenever she was on the station. Which was as likely a place as any to start, when the guard on Zakera docks notified him that Shepard was once again on the Citadel.

Considering it had been so long since he'd laid eyes on her, Chellick wondered if he'd even recognise the human; after all, their far too malleable faces looked pretty similar anyway. However, the moment he laid eyes on a red-fringed female lounging in a chair playing Skyllian Five, Chellick _knew_ it was Shepard, even though she looked far different from how he remembered her. The oddly moveable fringe that had always been secured back in a slick style he'd heard called a bun, was now cropped short to her jaw on one side, and shaved to almost nothing on the other, revealing a nasty looking scar that ran across the length of her skull and seemed to glow orange in the bar's dim lighting. Her face that he'd heard humans and asari call beautiful now had a vicious scar running down one side, that was mostly hidden by her fringe until she tilted her head back to take a swig of her beer. It looked like she was lucky she hadn't lost an eye, though whilst one was still the piercing green he remembered, the one semi-obscured by her fringe appeared to have a strange reddish tinge to it. Her skin that had never been particularly pigmented to begin with, was now so pale it was almost luminescent, as if she hadn't seen the light of day in years. And her once red lips that had always seemed to be smirking, were now painted a dark purple and twisted downwards. However, it wasn't just her face that caught his attention. Gone was the crisp uniform or sleek armour Chellick had always associated Shepard with, now she wore baggy combat pants and unlaced boots, teamed with a tiny cropped top that left not only her whole waist on show, but also let him... and everyone else... see the green, drell-like markings that curved up her arm and the blue geometric pattern that almost looked like turian clan paint, that seemed to cover her entire back.

He'd been so engrossed in studying Shepard, that he hadn't noticed the company she was with, until she saw her clink her bottle with a human female more scantily clad than she was; who's fringe was shaved even shorter than Shepard's, and who's barely covered body was littered by so many different coloured markings, that he could barely tell what her skin colour was. It seemed the pair were familiar with each other, probably not friends but certainly crew mates from the ease of their interactions. However, the same could not be said for the three batarians that also sat at their table. It was no secret that Shepard had a history with that race, from Mindoir to Elysium, and Chellick couldn't help take an inconspicuous step towards the table; thinking that Shepard might shortly need some back up, as she threw down her cards and seemed to win the game. It seemed his gut feeling was right, because the batarian who'd been sitting opposite her gave an enraged shout, before standing up and aiming a gun at her face. Chellick checked his step, not wanting to risk escalating the situation further, and was forced to watch as Shepard eyed the pistol aimed at her in an almost detached manner. She seemed completely unphased by the turn of events, like having someone level a gun at her over a game of cards was an every day occurrence... though considering who she was, Chellick was inclined to believe it very well could be.

Unsure what to do... utterly thrown by Shepard's completely blasé attitude... he watched as she took a drag from one of those dreadful cigarettes humans had introduced to the galaxy, before she gave the female beside her an almost bored look. The other scantily clad human merely tilted her head in response, and before Chellick knew it, Shepard had leapt across the table and sunk an omni-blade into the batarian's neck. In the same instant, her companion had grabbed the nearest batarian to her, before biotically punching the male to death. Then a split second later, Chellick watched as Shepard back flipped, just as there was a muzzle flash in his peripheral, and he glanced over to see a drell male by the bar lowering a SMG; which presumably meant the commander had just somersaulted over weapons fire, since the third batarian was dead with a hole in the centre of their forehead. It had been equally daunting and impressive to watch, so it was no surprised the other patrons gave the trio a wide berth, even as the drell casually went over to talk to the humans. But despite having mixed feelings about Shepard, Chellick couldn't let it stand. Murder was murder, no matter how likely it was the batarians deserved it; no matter the fact she was a Spectre and would probably get the charges dropped away. It was the principle of the thing. But before he could make his way over to confront Shepard, a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Don't.”

Startled, Chellick turned in the direction of the shockingly familiar voice, and came face to face with Vakarian; though a Vakarian he barely recognised, and not just because a large pressure bandage covering half of his face. Trying to reign in his sub-harmonics, Chellick's mandible twitched in a barely there greeting, as he eyed his one time colleague and friend. It was evident that whatever shit Shepard had been through, Vakarian had gone through similar.

“It would be ill advised...”

Chellick did not jump at the sound of the silky smooth voice, spoken far too close to him, though he did jerk around to find the drell standing behind him; his heart beat frantically, because he hadn't even heard the male move. However, at least the humans had more manners, or a least Shepard did, since the other human female just barrelled passed them... nearly knocking Chellick over with the biotic energy she radiated.

“Mind keeping an eye on her?” Shepard asked, kissing the drell on the cheek.

“As you wish, Siha,” the male replied, before seeming to simply disappear.

Chellick did not look around the shadows warily, regardless of what Vakarian's lopsided smirk would have anyone believe.

“See you found a friend,” Shepard observed, as she flagged down the bartender.

“Something like that,” Vakarian stated, settling his arm around the human's shoulders, as they knocked back their drinks in perfect sync.

“How's work treating you, Decian?” Shepard asked, glancing over.

Chellick did not react to the fact she knew his given name, and instead levelled her with an unimpressed look. “Better than yours, I'd imagine.”

Vakarian gave him a warning sub-harmonic growl, though Shepard merely laughed. “I don't doubt that,” she chuckled before waving over the bartender again. “Put this bastard on my tab for tonight, alright?”

“Whatever you want, Shepard,” the asari flirted.

“Promises, promise,” the human smirked, before she turned her attention back to him. “Stay out of trouble, Decian... we'll see you around.”

With that, Shepard sauntered out of the bar with Vakarian's arm still draped around her shoulders, though since Chellick couldn't help watching her go, he also noticed when the drell materialised out of the shadows, and watched Shepard link her arm with him. Chellick just shook his head, deciding he didn't want to know what was going on there, and also that he was better off not finding out what Shepard had been doing all these years. Really, he intended to avoid her completely if he could help it, though he wasn't beyond putting her offer of a drink... or several... to good use; and when he turned back to the bar, he found the asari already pouring him a turian brandy.

“Shepard certainly has a way about her,” they observed, smirking.

Chellick sighed before downing his drink. “She always did.”


End file.
